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Sam quickly snapped out of his daze.
"My apologies, I didn't realize you were calling me, My name is Samwell Tarly, from Horn Hill."
"It's not a very well-known place. You've probably never heard of—"
"I know it," Jimmy cut in immediately. "South of Highgarden, Dense forests. Close to the Red Mountains."
Sam blinked in surprise.
"Jimmy… you really are well-traveled."
Jimmy waved a hand.
"Not really... I've just been to more places than most."
"But I am curious."
"You're a Tarly, right?"
"As far as I know, the Tarlys of Horn Hill aren't the kind to end up in the Night's Watch."
"And you don't look like someone who committed a crime either."
"So how did you end up here?"
Sam fell silent.
Before he could answer, Brienne spoke up.
"Jimmy, I'm curious."
"Why do you always pick on fat people?"
"First it was Podrick, and now out of everyone here, you went straight for him."
Jimmy looked at her and grinned.
"That's because if you're in a crowd and have to pick someone you can trust, your best choice is a fat man."
"People who look like him tend to be more honest and kind."
"And most importantly…"
"Even if you accidentally offend them, they usually won't hold it against you."
Brienne had no response.
---
Sam led Jimmy and the others to their quarters.
Meanwhile, Jon turned to Sansa.
"How did you meet them? These people…"
"These people…" Sansa began.
She recounted everything that had happened.
How Jimmy had cut down more than fifty knights of the Vale on his own without a single injury.
How Tyrion had supposedly hired him.
And how he had a red eagle that could breathe fire… and even speak.
Jon stared at her.
What you're describing sounds even more like a legend than the stories I tell…
---
Under Sam's guidance, Jimmy passed through a study and entered a small room.
"Jimmy, you can stay here," Sam said. "This is where I usually read."
"It's a bit small, but it's quiet."
"Quiet is good," Jimmy replied immediately. "Quiet means better sleep."
"I'm taking a nap."
"Don't wake me for meals. Don't bother me at all."
"I haven't slept properly in days. I'm exhausted."
He lay down on the bed.
Within moments, his breathing became steady.
---
Jimmy didn't wake up until late the next morning.
It was almost noon by the time he finally got up.
Yawning and stretching, he stepped outside.
The bright sunlight made him squint.
He was dressed neatly in leather, with the emblem of a fire-breathing eagle across his chest.
Over it, he wore a black bearskin cloak, carefully stitched by the free folk.
"Who are you?"
A small girl sat nearby, looking at him curiously.
She had black hair, blue eyes, slightly large ears, and half her face bore the stony marks of greyscale.
"You're from the Night's Watch too?" she asked.
"Is that a dragon on your chest?"
Jimmy glanced down.
"This? No."
"It's a fire-breathing eagle."
"My name's Jimmy. Jimmy Hoster."
"Are you Princess Shireen?"
"Yes," she replied.
"A fire-breathing eagle? I've never seen a sigil like that before."
"It's not a sigil," Jimmy said. "It's my companion."
"His name is Horus."
"I'll introduce you sometime."
As the two chatted, a woman approached.
"Watch your words," she said sharply.
"The person before you is Princess Shireen, daughter of Stannis Baratheon."
"King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men."
"Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."
"The one true heir to the Iron Throne."
Her tone was cold and arrogant.
Jimmy didn't even bother to look at her.
"The Iron Throne is in King's Landing, isn't it?"
"So what happened?"
"Did the heir fail to inherit it?"
"Or is the throne too uncomfortable to sit on?"
"Don't start lecturing me," Jimmy said lazily. "Rule the Seven Kingdoms all you want. I'm not part of them."
"Alright, Princess Shireen, let's end it here."
"Come find me sometime. I'll see if I can fix your face."
"Shouldn't be too hard."
He gently touched the greyscale covering half her face.
Shireen instinctively flinched.
But when his words sank in, she froze.
"…Really?"
"Probably," Jimmy said casually. "See you, Princess."
"Goodbye, Ser Jimmy!"
Jimmy walked off without even sparing a glance at the woman beside her, who looked furious enough to explode.
---
"Shireen, who was that?" the woman demanded.
"Jimmy," Shireen answered simply. "He said it himself."
"But he's not from the Night's Watch."
"Wildlings can't be trusted, they—"
"Mother, he's definitely not a wildling!"
---
Jimmy walked away, then suddenly paused.
Wait… something's off.
According to the original timeline, shouldn't Shireen have already been sacrificed by now?
Did something change?
---
"Jimmy!"
Brienne called out to him.
"You've slept long enough. Want to spar?"
Jimmy glanced over.
Podrick and Jon were both watching as well.
He smiled.
"Sure."
He vaulted over the railing in one smooth motion and landed firmly on the ground.
Picking up a blunted training sword, he gave it a few casual swings as he approached.
"I'm actually better with a blade, but this will do."
Brienne stepped forward.
She knew she couldn't beat him.
But fighting stronger opponents was the only way to improve.
---
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Jimmy deliberately held back, matching Brienne's strength.
Even so, Brienne quickly realized something was wrong.
Same strength… but his speed is much faster.
And… he's been fighting one-handed this entire time.
After several exchanges, Jimmy suddenly accelerated.
He knocked her sword aside and placed his blade lightly against her neck.
Then he withdrew it.
The match was over.
Brienne exhaled slowly.
She was completely convinced now.
Jimmy wasn't just strong.
His technique was on another level.
---
"Nice!"
Cheers erupted around them.
For days, Brienne had been dominating everyone in training.
Even Jon had barely managed to scrape a win by skill, tapping her leg while her sword hovered above his head.
She was no ordinary fighter.
With her size, strength, and agility, very few could withstand even a few of her strikes.
Yet Jimmy had handled her effortlessly.
---
They all ate together at noon.
After the meal, a knight approached Jon.
"Apologies, Lord Commander, but I need a moment of your time."
"His Grace is preparing to march on Winterfell."
"Now that Lady Sansa has arrived at Castle Black…"
"You may want to consider supporting the king with your forces."
"Winterfell belongs to House Stark."
"If it doesn't return to Stark control…"
"You alone won't be able to hold back what's coming from beyond the Wall."
The man speaking was the Onion Knight.
Davos Seaworth.
Deep down, he couldn't shake a growing sense of unease.
This campaign… might end in defeat.
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